Thank You For Being You
by FantasyGirl1992
Summary: A short, fluffy Wolfstar story. Early in 6th year, Remus is worried that Sirius isn't coping with his disownment as well as everyone thinks he is - but does Sirius have an ulterior motive for his erratic behaviour? Rated for language.


**AN: So basically the story behind this one is that I'm working on a long, angsty Wolfstar fic at the moment, and sometimes I'd find myself needing to write some fluff for a bit just because I felt too mean... So this short story happened. And now I'm almost at 100,000 words on this site (eek!) so I though I'd celebrate the milestone with something happy rather than another chapter of angst. So, little bit of Wolfstar fluff for you, hope you enjoy!**

**I own nothing and no one you recognise, that all belongs to JKR.**

* * *

"I swear, Pads, one of these days I'm going to stop trying to cover for you and let you take the hit you sorely deserve."

Sirius, who was scrubbing out a cauldron next to me, gave a derisive snort. "Sure you will, Moons. Sure you will."

I rolled my eyes. Sirius' animagus skills, combined with the Marauders Map, meant that generally speaking he didn't get caught on his moonlit escapades anymore. He could slink around the castle largely unseen, hiding in shadows against which his dark coat was the perfect camouflage, and he always knew if a teacher was coming, and which way to take to avoid them.

Unfortunately, those skills were next to useless when he'd downed an entire bottle of firewhisky, something which had become a more regular occurrence than I might have liked. James was under the unfortunate impression that Sirius was more pleased than traumatised by his recent disownment, but I had noticed, since I tended to look harder, that this wasn't entirely true.

Sirius had become, if this were possible, more reckless. James just thought it was the usual high spirits and devil-may-care attitude, but he had never woken in the night to find Sirius gone; checked the Map to identify his position at the top of the Astronomy Tower; stolen the invisibility cloak; and snuck off to rescue Sirius, dishevelled and shaking, curled up among the telescopes, clutching a bottle of liquor.

I don't think for a moment he regretted leaving home. But knowing as he did that his brother was on the path to You-Know-Who and yet that it was he, Sirius, who was considered a disgrace to the family, must have done funny things to him. It would to me, and it's not as though I hadn't grown up with my own set of, ahem, issues.

So it was that McGonagall had found us out of bed at two o'clock in the morning. I had taken the cloak with me, as I always did, but Sirius, drunk and, inevitably, loud, could not be convinced to shut up and hide behind it. McGonagall had looked more exasperated than angry; in fact, I swear I detected concern in her eyes. Perhaps she, like I, was worried that Sirius' increased idiocy resulted from something more than an extension of his usual cavalier attitude.

Certainly her punishment – a dull but not particularly unpleasant evening scrubbing out all the school cauldrons – had been surprisingly lenient, given the circumstances. It had been impossible to disguise the fact that Sirius was hammered – if nothing else, she must have been able to smell it.

So there we were, not for the first time. It was somewhat unusual for James not to be with us; where Sirius was in trouble, James was never usually far away. But this time it had been me at Sirius' side, a disgrace to my prefect's badge, trying to discretely hold him upright as McGonagall bellowed at us.

"You won't though, will you, Moony?"

I blinked at him. My train of thought had taken me so far that it took me a moment to remember what we had been talking about. Then I recalled, and gave an exaggerated groan. "I suppose not."

"Thanks, Moons." He reached across and gave me a quick squeeze on the shoulder, and I looked away. _Don't do that,_ I thought desperately. _Please don't do that._

Sirius' easy affection always threw me off-guard. He always seemed to me to be trying to compensate for a loveless childhood; an arm thrown around a shoulder here, feet crossed up in your lap there. The boy had absolutely no boundaries.

Which wouldn't have bothered me in itself, were it not for the fact that he had no idea what he _did_ to me, whenever he touched me. No idea how my stomach jolted and tugged, how my toes curled, how I had to stop myself from reaching out and caressing him with my hand in return. The stupid complacent bastard had no idea at all.

He noticed me looking away, but didn't understand. "Aw, come on, Moony, I'm sorry."

I would always have preferred him for him to think that I was angry than to know the truth, so I gave an irritable shrug, deposited the cauldron I had just cleaned on the 'finished' pile, and fetched another. By the looks of things, either myself or Peter had been the last to use this one – burnt, congealed, black sludge lined the bottom. Sirius noticed my nose wrinkling, glanced inside the cauldron, and chuckled. "I'll do that one," he said, and before I could protest he was taking the cauldron off me. I couldn't tell whether he intended our fingers to brush or not; presumably not. Why would he do it on purpose?

x-x-x-x-x

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius," I snapped, throwing off the cloak. "This is getting out of hand."

Sirius gazed balefully up at me through puppy-dog eyes, sprawled on the floor at the foot of Professor Caelum's desk. "Sorry, Moony."

At least he was quite subdued tonight, rather than his usual loud, cavorting self; but that didn't detract from the fact that it was the second time that week that I'd had to take a trip up to rescue him from the Astronomy Tower and from himself. An empty bottle lay on the floor next to him, and I groaned. If he'd had the lot, it was going to take a lot to get him back to bed.

Deciding I couldn't bring myself to start the task yet, I sat on the floor next to him. "You know, Pads, I'm starting to worry a bit."

He leaned against me, fortunately not noticing the way I closed my eyes, bit my lip, clenched my fists. "Me too, Moony."

I wrapped a cautious arm around him and he snuggled in against me. "You're going to have to come up with a better way of coping than this, Sirius, I mean it."

"I know," he said, and hiccoughed sadly. "I don't know why I care."

I sighed. "I do, Pads. You care because no one should ever have to face the fact that their parents don't want them."

I pretended not to notice when he wiped a tear away with the heel of his hand. "It's me who didn't want them."

"Right." There didn't seem to be much point trying to get to the bottom of this tonight; I doubted he was going to remember anything anyway.

"Thanks, Moony."

"What for?"

He pressed closer. "Just being you, I s'pose."

I laughed softly. "I do my best, Pads."

"No, really." He twisted round to look at me, though his eyes seemed to be having a little trouble focusing. "You're awesome, Remus."

I forced myself to roll my eyes. "Righto, Pads. And you're a little drunk."

He managed to rearrange his features into a frown. "A _little_ bit. But I know what I'm thinking."

"Well, that's a start."

"Like right now, I'm thinking how nice it would be to kiss you."

"You… What?"

He turned himself so that he was kneeling in front of me, searching my face, though what for I didn't know. "Don't you think that would be nice, Moony?"

"I…" I swallowed hard. "You're drunk, Padfoot," I made myself tell him, firmly, not answering the question.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Live a little, Moony."

Before I knew what was happening, he was leaning in and his mouth was pressed against mine.

I didn't know how to react, and even if my brain had been able to work out what to do, I doubt I'd have had enough control to make myself actually do it. After a second frozen, stunned, I began to kiss him back, feeling the soft, warm swell of his lips moving against mine. It was a matter of moments before I felt the damp pressure of his tongue running across my bottom lip and I obediently opened my mouth to let him in. I could taste him, and he tasted of firewhisky and cigarette smoke (how often had I nagged him to give that up?) and of something else, something I couldn't put a name to, no name except _Sirius._

And then he had stopped kissing me and was curling up against my side again, his arms wrapped tightly round my waist. I didn't, couldn't, say anything; we just sat there for a few minutes, as I tried to get my head around what had just happened. I couldn't decide whether I should be feeling guilty or not. On the one hand, Sirius was in no fit state to make his own decisions about anything – had I taken advantage? But on the other, it had been entirely initiated by him, I had done nothing. Except fail to stop it. Should I have pushed him off?

"Pads?" I forced myself to ask after a while, but all I received in answer was a quiet snore. I groaned, and tried to shake him awake, but nothing happened, so I threw the cloak over him (it would be easier for me, if caught, to run and hide than it would be to conceal his floating body), levitated him, and used the Map to negotiate a Filch-free route through the castle to our dormitory.

x-x-x-x-x

"Argh!"

I was awoken a few hours later by an agonised groan. I rolled over and was unsurprised to see Sirius, sitting up in bed, rubbing his head, pain etched into every feature of his face. He looked distinctly ill. "Remus?"

"Yes?" I managed, terrified. Would he remember? What would he have to say about the whole incident?

"Did you come and find me?"

Oh.

"Yes," I told him, irrational disappointment sinking over me. _Better he forgets than remembers,_ I tried to tell myself. _If he'd remembered, he'd only have freaked out._

"Thanks. Sorry."

I made a non-committal noise as he fell back against the pillow. Peter gave a snore, reassuring me that he, James, and Frank had all slept through the little exchange. All three of them slept like rocks.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the hangings of my four-poster. Even though I knew it was better for both of us that he couldn't remember, that the awkwardness if he had would have been unbearable, I couldn't shake off that feeling of disappointment. At least if he'd known, I wouldn't have had to hide anymore. And maybe, if he felt awkward about it, he'd have stopped touching me, which could only have been a good thing. I thought that if he'd only stop throwing his arms around me, I might find it easier to shake off my feelings.

Even as I thought all of this, I knew that I was really distracting myself from the one question I didn't want to ask, and that question was, _Why?_ _Why_ had he kissed me in the first place? What had he been thinking?

_He wasn't_, I told myself gloomily. _He wasn't thinking. The firewhisky was doing the thinking for him._

I couldn't get back to sleep. For the rest of the night, there was a thought fighting in the back of my head to be heard, and try as I might to ignore it, I couldn't. The thought was that maybe it hadn't been the firewhisky – or at least, not _just_ the firewhisky. But I couldn't allow myself to listen to that thought, because then I might start to believe in it, and to hope for it, and then I really would be in trouble.

x-x-x-x-x

The next few days were excruciating. I half hoped, half feared, that Sirius would suddenly remember what he'd done – what _we_ had done – on the top of the Astronomy Tower, freak out, and never speak to me again. He certainly seemed a little subdued, to the extent that even James, exasperated, noticed and asked him what was wrong over lunch the next day. He just shrugged, giving me a meaningful look that made me choke on my vegetables, and headed off to Muggle Studies, a class he chose primarily, I think, to annoy his parents.

He never told any of us what was wrong, and for three days I was left worrying and wondering. Had he remembered, and if so, what was he thinking? Was he angry? He didn't seem to be. Confused? Probably. Disgusted? Apparently not.

And if he hadn't remembered, what was it that was bothering him? Had he realised, finally, that it was time to face sober the problem that usually made him turn to drink, and admit that even when you hate your parents, being disowned comes as something of a shock?

On the third night after what I had in my head begun to term "the encounter," I woke up in the middle of the night, as was customary, and glanced over to Sirius' bed to check on him. With a groan, I realised that he had once again vanished.

I reached for the Map, and glanced up to the Astronomy Tower. It took me a few moments to realise that Sirius wasn't there, either.

This made me really anxious. His nightly escapades might be worrying, but at least they were usually predictable. I scanned the Map urgently, until finally I found him, in the last place I would have expected; down on the shores of the lake.

Filled with a sudden fear that he was trying to drown himself, I scrambled in James' dresser for the cloak. Not for the first time, I was thankful that our three room mates were such heavy sleepers; I was in too much of a rush to really be quiet, yet none of them woke.

With the Map in hand, I dashed through the castle, taking a detour to avoid Mrs Norris, and burst out of the front door onto the steps. I hurried down them and dashed across the lawn towards the spot where I could see that Sirius was standing or, more likely, lying with bottle in hand. I was anxious at the fact that I couldn't yet hear him – often by this stage he would be singing loudly – but relieved at least to see that he was still on the shore and not floating unconscious in the icy water.

I scrambled down the lakeside path to the familiar clearing where we Marauders often gathered. It was sheltered by a line of trees, making it relatively private, which meant that I didn't see Sirius until I was almost crashing into him.

He wasn't lying on the ground. He wasn't even drunk.

He was standing, very still, in the middle of the clearing. I could just make out his outline – it was a cloudy night, and new moon – clearly enough to see that he wasn't swaying, and that he was staring at me as though he had been waiting.

"Sirius?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his wand and made a small flicking motion with it.

All around me, tiny lights began to flicker into existence. I gaped, open mouthed, as the whole clearing lit up around me. As the lights came on, Sirius' face came into clear view. The stupid bastard was grinning from ear to ear.

"Sirius?" I said again, but this time I was urgent, confused. He still just continued to stare at me, so after a while I stepped closer to one of the lights to examine them.

Each one was a tiny fairy. I knew from Care of Magical Creatures that there was a particular breed of fairy which lit up at night; Sirius must have had the lot of them under a powerful concealment charm, and lifted it when I arrived.

There was, of course, still one question, and I asked it. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd come looking for me," he said quietly.

"Yes, but…"

"And I wanted to do something special. Because _you're_ special, Moons."

I looked around me, slightly breathless. "And a bar of Honeydukes' finest wouldn't have sufficed?"

"Not tonight," he said, and I realised suddenly that he had taken a step towards me.

"And what's tonight?" I stammered, aware now that he was very, very close indeed.

Sirius grabbed hold of my elbows and pulled me in, closing the gap between us until my face was inches away from his.

"That you for being you, Moony," he whispered, and then, once again, he kissed me.

If anything, I was even more stunned than the first time. Sirius, completely sober, was kissing me, voluntarily. I wondered wildly whether I might be dreaming this, whether I was about to wake up, and roll over either to find Sirius asleep at the other end of the room, or intoxicated on the battlements of the astronomy tower; but the taste of him was far too vivid, too real, to be a dream, as was the urgent pressure of his mouth against mine. Urgent and yet tender, exquisite, perfect.

He pulled away and in spite of myself, I gasped. He was grinning down at me, and the kiss, and his words just before it, combined to make me realise…

"You remembered," I said, weakly. "You remembered the other night…"

"Of course I did," he told me, his eyes glittering wickedly. "I wasn't drunk at all."

"What?!" I pushed him off me, and he stumbled back, chortling. "Sorry, Moons. But I suspected, and I had to know…"

"But… I could taste the firewhisky," I said, blushing as I did so at the memory.

"Well, obviously I had a gulp or two, to make it realistic…"

"Did it not occur to you just to ask me?!"

"Don't be ridiculous. What if you'd said no? How stupid would I look then?"

"But… but…" I babbled, staring at him in disbelief.

"Look," he said, suddenly sincere, and he strode towards me, gripping tightly to me once again. "I know, I know, I should have just asked, I was being a coward. But do you have any idea how much I need you, Moons?"

"I…"

"Don't speak," he said, and as if to emphasise his point, he raised his finger and pressed it against my lips. "You have done so much for me, Remus. You kept an eye out for me, covered up for me, never once lost patience with me… And I didn't deserve any of that, but I _needed_ it. I still do. I couldn't lose all that looking for something more from you. But then I thought, maybe… And I knew you wouldn't be mad at me for trying, not if I was drunk and miserable, so I just…"

"Pretended to be drunk and miserable, just so you could test out your little theory?" I asked, through his finger, which was still on my mouth. The words were harsh, but my tone wasn't, and I knew he could see in my eyes that I didn't mind, not really.

"Exactly. And after that I was sure, so I thought, why not do something special? Something special for the only person in the world who really deserves it?"

Questions and doubts were flooding my mind. The old hang-ups, the old doubts, were clamouring to be heard. My furry little problem had always seemed to me to be too insurmountable to ever have anything _like that_ with anyone. And that was only the start of it.

"But…" I began, not sure exactly what I was going to say, but he shook his head. "Whatever crap you're going to come out with, Remus, leave it. I _like_ you. And that'd not going to change. And you like me, don't you?"

I nodded, wordlessly.

"Well, then," he said, and at last he removed his hand from my lips and replaced it with his mouth.

x-x-x-x-x

"You have to admit," Sirius said later the next evening, "It was _exceptionally_ romantic."

I glared at him over the bubotuber I was working on. "Right until we ran into McGonagall."

Yes, that's right, we were in detention again. I had forgotten to check the Map as we ascended the stairs, and neither of us had thought to don the cloak. Not mistakes either of us would usually make, but then it had been a highly unusual evening.

McGonagall had been furious when she found us. "That's twice in one week!" she had screamed, causing the subjects of the portraits around us to jerk awake, grumbling and glaring. "Detention, tonight!"

So it was that we were spending our first evening as, dare I say it, _a couple,_ collecting bubotuber pus.

"Aw, come on," he wheedled. "It was worth it?"

I scowled, though it was forced and he knew it. "Could anything be worth this?"

He just grinned at me, and I found myself smiling back. All I could think about was what we would do when we left the Greenhouses. What we could now do any time we wanted.

"I swear, Pads, one of these days," I told him, though he could hear quite clearly that I was fighting down a laugh, "I'm going to stop trying to cover for you and let you take the hit you sorely deserve."

His grin broadened, and he reached across the table to give my hand a squeeze. "Sure you will, Moons," he murmured, intertwining his fingers with mine for a moment as we both paused in our work. "Sure you will."


End file.
